


everything led back to you

by celestialfics (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, art students, its cute, minor homophobia, painting each others nails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/celestialfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First place in the high school art show isn’t even that big of a deal, or that’s what most of Dan and Phil’s friends say. And, well, they’re not wrong. It’s probably just the competing that Dan and Phil like, but they won’t ever admit that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything led back to you

**Author's Note:**

> title from ed sheeran's "all of the stars"  
> this was super fun to write, and it was written for the phanfic exchange on tumblr !!

As his classmates filed out of the art room to flee to the lunchroom, Dan remained there standing in the front of the room. He puffed out an angry breath; his arms were crossed over his chest and paint splatters littered his hair, clothes, and skin.

_Fucking Phil Lester._

The bloke should've been expelled from art class a long time ago, Dan thought. Like maybe the time that Phil set off the sprinklers in the art room by setting some wood on fire for "artistic purposes" while, coincidentally, Dan's drawings were the only ones lying on the art tables. Or maybe that time he dropped a chunk of charcoal on Dan's drying watercolor painting—how does that even happen? Leave it up to fucking Phil Lester to not only execute the act, but also get away with it scot-free.

As Dan continued to fume to himself about his art class enemy, the art teacher, Ms. Karson, looked to him expectantly from her desk. "What exactly do you need, Daniel?"

Dan furrowed his eyebrows, shoving his paint spotted arms out at the teacher. "Look at me!"

"I'm looking," Ms. Karson responded, unamused and unimpressed.

"Phil—Phil Lester did this to me. Aren't you going to do anything?" Dan began to pick absentmindedly at a spot of paint on his arm.

"Dan..." she trailed, "It was an accident. I saw so myself; he tripped."

Dan sighed; it's always an _accident_ with Phil. "He tripped on _purpose_. Right in front of me, with an open bottle of paint in his hand! Why didn't he have a cover? Can he at least get in trouble for _that_?"

"No one trips on purpose. Now go clean yourself up." The teacher ignored parts of Dan's statement and turned back to her work, waving a hand at her student.

Rolling his eyes, Dan made his way out of the art classroom and down the hallway. He scratched at the speckles of blue paint on one of his palms as he continued to the bathroom, wondering how Phil had even managed to get so much paint on him. No _way_ it was an accident, not to Dan, anyway. Phil'd probably been aiming for Dan's _canvas—_ he was lucky to be standing in the way.

It'd been like this for as long as Dan could remember; he never liked Phil, and Phil never liked him. They were never the kind of kids to play with each other at recess or eat lunch at the same table. Just the whole 'ruining all Dan's projects' thing was the new bit.

Phil was jealous, Dan decided. Phil was jealous that Dan's art was better than his and that Dan would be winning first place in the art show while Phil probably wouldn't even place. Phil was jealous, so he tried to sabotage Dan's work to give himself a better chance. (Wishful thinking on Dan's part; Phil could have really given Dan a run for his money if he wanted to. Second place was more than reachable.)

As Dan peered at his blue paint speckled skin in the bathroom mirror, he narrowed his eyes. He'd have to confront Phil tomorrow, he established to himself. Afterwards, maybe he'd dump some yellow paint on Phil's hair by "accident."

* * *

 

When Dan walked into the art class the next morning, he was more than surprised to see Phil sitting in the chair next to Dan's usual seat. Usually Chris sat there, but he'd opted to switch spots with Phil, apparently. It made sense to Dan, however, when he saw Chris watching intently as PJ cut up some cardboard. Chris could intently watch PJ do anything, probably.

"Dan," Phil greeted as Dan slumped into his seat, dropping his books onto the table in front of him.

"How much did Chris have to pay you?" Dan huffed, not looking over to Phil as he rummaged through some papers to appear busy.

"Nothing, surprisingly. I mean, I _see_ how much of a lovesick puppy he is. I do have some compassion," Phil replied, watching as Dan obviously ruffled through papers with no true intent.

" _You_? Compassion?" Dan scoffed, "It doesn't add up. What're you gonna try to ruin this time? My biology homework?"

Phil snorted. "You still think I'm out to get you? I don't have to destroy your work to beat you in the art show."

"Oh, yeah?" Dan still wouldn't meet eyes with the boy next to him.

"Oh, yeah." Phil flicked at a bit of paint that had dried on the table. "I could definitely beat you. Definitely."

Before Dan could muster up a witty response, his friend Louise approached the table with a quirked eyebrow. "This is—Are you two finally getting along?"

"I'd say so—" Phil started, before he was cut off by Dan.

"Just the opposite."

Louise looked bemused. Nonetheless, she took a seat on the chair at Dan's other side.

After Phil explained that he'd switched spots with Chris so that he could sit by PJ, Dan was about to butt in when Louise asked, "Why didn't PJ just come sit over here? We have all these empty seats," she gestured at the other three spots at the table.

Dan laughed as he looked to the empty chairs, "Yeah, but no one likes to sit with us, Louise. We're too loud."

"You've got me there," Louise grinned, "but we're having the most fun!"

Phil stopped paying attention when his company became nostalgic, retelling anecdotes they'd probably already re-lived hundreds of times. All he really heard of it was "and remember that time Chris was pretending to snort chalk dust and he really did it?" before he tuned them out. They were nearly hooting with laughter, and Phil thought that _yeah_ , they were right. No one wanted to sit with them because they were obnoxious. And yet, here Phil sat.

Right, Phil _had_ made the conscious decision to sit with them, but his only intention was to get further under Dan Howell's skin (besides the fact he wanted to bother PJ a little bit by letting loverboy near him). Phil just thought it was kind of funny how riled he could get the guy. And anyway, tomorrow he'd be back to his own seat.

Ms. Karson eventually called the class to silence just to tell them to work on their shading for today. Dan groaned; shading was his definitely not something he considered a favourite. Luckily for Phil, he was pretty okay at shading, so he took in the opportunity to brag to Dan with open arms.

Occasionally casting glances at Dan's art, Phil worked intently at his own. He suppressed a grin as he tapped on Dan's shoulder.

"What do you think of this?" Phil inquired, sliding his work across the table and knowing very well that it looked better than Dan's.

Dan failed to hide the slight drop of his jaw before he scrutinized the piece. "Well, I think you could go a bit darker... here. And what happened there?" Dan pressed the pad of his finger into the darkest spot on Phil's paper before dragging his finger across the paper and to the edge, leaving a harsh smear in his wake. "...Oops."

"Fuck you," Phil whined, observing the damage Dan had done.

"It was just an _accident_ ," Dan hissed, shielding his own paper with his arm.

Phil sighed and looked to his paper once again, wondering if there was any way to make the smudge blend in. After looking for so long, Phil tore the paper in half. It wasn't like Ms. Karson was planning on collecting it anyway.

"Maybe you should rip yours, too," Phil commented as he peered over Dan's shoulder and at his piece.

"Shut up," Dan retorted, gripping the shading pencil tighter in his hand.

"Just saying, you're never gonna win the art show with shading like _that_."

"Watch me!" Dan snapped the pencil in half before staring meekly down at the two pieces.

Phil sneered at him before scooping his possessions off the table and heading towards PJ and Chris.

Louise glanced up from the art she had been paying her undiverted attention to at the sound of the pencil breaking. "Why do you two have to be so mean to each other?" she asked as she continued to work.

Dan shrugged as he collected the pieces of pencil in his hand.

"Plus, you know, the art show isn't a big deal. Everyone in an art class gets at least one thing in it, and there're like seven different first place winners."

"There's only one _real_ first place winner," Dan argued, "'Best of Show', and I'm going to be it. Not just win it, _be_ it."

Louise rolled her eyes, "You don't get scholarship money or anything, seriously."

"I don't care. I have to beat Phil," Dan stressed.

"Why?" Louise didn't look up from her paper.

"Because he's a... a twat-bag," Dan nodded to himself, "and he always tries to sabotage me."

Louise began to shake her head, but a lock of her hair fell off her shoulder and onto her shaded piece, so she yanked her head up and inspected the hair before tossing it back over her shoulder.

"I think you should go out with him sometime," Louise commented with nothing short of a sly grin, setting her pencil down on the table.

"What," Dan deadpanned, "No fucking way."

Louise grinned as she stood from her seat to go ask Ms. Karson's opinion on her newly shaded artwork, leaving Dan alone at the table.

He cast a wary glance over to Phil to see him helping PJ hold some orange painted cardboard in place as Chris glued pieces together. (PJ never really listened to what Ms. Karson assigned for the class period; he did whatever artsy thing he wanted to do. The teacher didn't mind much—PJ had a certain charm and no one tended to argue with him.) Well, at least it seemed that PJ and Chris were getting along. Heaven knows Chris hadn't shut up about PJ since the first day of preschool, probably.

As Dan watched Phil continue to help PJ on whatever creative thing he was doing, Louise returned and shook her head with a faint smile upon her lips when she saw just who Dan was staring at. _Infatuation_ , she decided.

* * *

 

"I convinced PJ to sit with us in art," Chris proclaimed triumphantly the next morning, leaning against the locker next to Dan's. "But, since Phil didn't want to sit alone..."

"You're kidding." Dan pressed his locker closed as the first bell rang, signifying that everyone should head to their classes.

Chris shrugged, starting his walk with Dan to their first-period history class. He shoved Dan towards Phil when they passed each other in the hallway, to which Dan scowled back at his friend. Luckily, the hallways were crowded and Phil didn't notice.

"Couldn't he just sit with, like, Tyler or something?" Dan whined, stepping through the history classroom door.

"I'm sure he _could_ ," Chris replied, sitting in his assigned desk near the back of the class. "But PJ is his best friend, so..."

Dan groaned as he continued forward to his seat.

The classes before art all seemed to drag on forever for Dan, seeing as he was learning things he didn't necessarily care about. Really, he couldn't bring himself to actually care about President Hoover or Edgar Allan Poe's _The Masque of the Red Death_ when he had to memorize worthless facts about them just to spew out on the test again later.

That's why art class was his favorite, anyway. He didn't really need to extensively study one thing for a week just to forget it the next; he could _create_. He could create real, tangible things that could be in museums some day (or at least things that could win first place against Phil Lester in the school's art show).

Maybe Phil's intention was to ruin Dan's only good class. So far he was successful; Dan was beginning to dread the thought of entering the art room every day to see him and his stupid face sitting in the chair next to Dan's.

Though he wouldn't let himself become deterred. That was also probably what Phil wanted, for Dan to give up and let him have all the glory. (All the glory, as much glory as there is to winning a high school art show.)

So, Dan traipsed into the art classroom to find Phil sitting in the seat diagonally across the table from Dan's chair. At least Chris had reclaimed his usual spot, thus the sworn enemies didn't have to sit elbow-to-elbow.

"I thought for a second you wouldn't be showing up today," Phil started, the bell ringing just as Dan set his books on the table.

"What a shame for you, then," Dan huffed, turning his attention away from Phil, though the latter kept his gaze locked on Dan.

Dan looked over to his side, where Louise was to be sitting, but he'd paid so much attention to Phil as he walked in that he hadn't realized Louise was absent. Dan let out a deep sigh; of course Louise would leave him alone with the coined lovesick puppy, the mentally faraway artist, and fucking _Phil Lester_. Dan wanted to smack the smug grin off Phil's face when they again made eye contact. Dan broke his eyes away immediately.

"Ms. Karson's giving us a free day today," Phil spoke moments later, "I was wondering if you'd like to collaborate on something?"

Dan gave an inward snort. "As if."

"Uh," Phil furrowed his brow as Dan lifted his gaze up again, "I wasn't talking to you." He gestured towards PJ, who directed a small wave to Dan.

"Shit. I thought—" Dan swallowed harshly, sort of wanting to throw himself into the void.

"Why would I—?" Phil cut himself short and rolled his eyes, facing PJ and shaking his head. PJ shrugged at Dan before diverting his attention.

Dan sat in a shell of embarrassment, hiding the redness of his face by looking down at some papers. His spirits were slightly lifted when he realized that it was indeed a free day, so he could do whatever he wanted.

He decided to paint. There were a few reasons as to why, but the most prominent at that moment was that the easels were on the opposite side of the room from Phil. (Not that that stopped him last time.)

Phil seemed pretty preoccupied on his work with PJ, anyway, when Dan found himself staring at him while absentmindedly stroking his brush a few times on the before blank canvas. Dan tore away his gaze, shaking his head slightly to himself. He couldn't _not_ think about Phil while he was just sitting there being all horrible on the other side of the room. Phil didn't even have to make a conscious effort to be horrible.

"...Dan?" A voice ripped Dan from his thoughts. "What exactly are you painting?"

"Oh, uh, hi, Mallory." Dan gave a weak smile to the girl as he observed his painting; while he'd been thinking about Phil, he'd been dragging a dry paintbrush across the canvas. All that he'd painted were three intersecting blue lines before he just wiped the dry brush on the paper. "I was... trying something more... more _abstract_."

Mallory raised an eyebrow before shrugging. Dan peered over at her canvas to see that she was attempting a sunset, and it was actually pretty good. Dan needed to pick up his game and stop thinking about goddamn horrible Phil if he was going to win the art show.

Phil could sabotage Dan's work without even casting a glance in Dan's direction, and Dan was appalled. Certainly, this was all part of some sort of elaborate scheme: "Distract Dan from doing his work so he won't win the art show".

And maybe Phil didn't understand why, when he looked over, Dan was staring at him with an angry, red-tinted face, but he winked at Dan anyway.

_That bastard._

* * *

 

With each passing day, Dan's urge to punch Phil in the face grew a bit stronger. (If you'd asked Louise, though, she'd have said Dan was masking his _true_ feelings—Dan just needed a kiss, really, according to her.)

It was just that Dan had a hard enough time with Phil sitting a few tables away; after a week of him sitting at the same table, Dan had to actually remind himself that it wasn't acceptable to glare at someone for minutes at a time. Louise would flick his shoulder, shaking her head at him and pointing a finger down at whatever Dan had been "working" on—he wasn't getting much work done, obviously, while staring at Phil.

And when a new student came into their school and in turn their art class, Louise was quick to offer her the only empty chair at their table, the one across from Dan and next to Louise (and Phil on the other side). Her name was Dodie, and after she'd taken her seat, she quickly observed the fact that Dan relentlessly stared at Phil more often than not.

"Hey," she started, getting Dan's attention. "Did you want to sit here, next to him?"

Louise burst out into laughter at the question. "No, Dodie.... Dan and Phil, they're _sworn_ enemies."

"I don't remember swearing on it." Phil overheard the conversation and decided to join.

Dodie's eyebrows lifted in shock, "Oh, I just thought—"

"'Cause he stares at me all the time? Yeah, I think it's just because he's 'plotting' or something weird like that. He hates me; I hate him.... You get it." Phil sharply angled his head towards Dan, who shot him a venomous glare.

"I'm sitting _right here,_ you all know?" Dan looked back down at his artwork, trying to come across as though he were focused on it.

"Yeah, we know," Louise chimed, "That's what makes it fun."

"Shut up, Louise," Dan grumbled, "This is bullying."

Dodie smiled at Louise, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. Louise giggled and nodded vigorously at whatever she'd whispered. Dan narrowed his eyes at the pair of girls before sighing and taking headphones out of his bag. He figured if he couldn't willfully ignore all of them, he could just listen to something that was... not them.

And that worked for a while, Dan working intently on his own, until Louise tapped on Dan's shoulder. When Dan looked up and took out his headphones, he realized Chris and Phil had switched spots and Chris was watching Dodie draw from over her shoulder.

"Hey, Dan?" Louise spoke, "Could you throw this away for me?" She held out a crumpled piece of paper.

"That's really what you need me for?" Dan said, swatting away the paper and beginning to put his headphones back in.

" _Please_?" Louise stuck out her lip, prompting Dan to roll his eyes and snatch the paper from her hand.

As soon as he began to stand up, however, his foot was caught and Phil jerked slightly sideways in his chair. Dan whipped around to face Phil, looking down at their feet to see the laces tied together.

"What the fuck," Dan spat, wiggling his ankle to free it of the doomed shoe. He lifted his eyes to make fierce eye contact with Phil. "...Why? Why torture yourself like this?"

Phil just appeared confused—as confused as Dan, just not as angry.

"I—"

Then Dan looked at the other table members to see Louise, Dodie, and Chris all doubled over in laughter. PJ just raised his eyebrows at the two boys, his mouth pulled into a sly smile.

Phil noticeably rolled his eyes. "Who did it?" he sighed, reaching down to the knot.

Louise pointed over to Chris, who grinned devilishly. "I triple-knotted it. How did neither of you notice?" Chris paused, but only momentarily before he started to speak again. "Oh, that's right. I'm good with my hands." He winked at PJ, the receiver then shaking his head and looking away.

"Fuck you guys," Dan whined, throwing the ball of paper back at Louise.

" _Language_ , Daniel," Mr. Karson approached the table, looking down at Phil with a skeptical gaze. "Anyway, what's going on here?"

Dan didn't really want to sacrifice Chris, so he lied, "Phil thought it would be funny to tie our shoelaces together. And now I'm making him undo it."

She looked puzzled for a moment, "Why?"

Phil glanced up at her and Dan was slightly worried that he'd tell her the truth. He just shrugged as he fumbled with the knots.

"And why have you two decided to sit in such close proximity?"

Dan was quick to answer and defend himself, "He came and sat over here while I wasn't paying attention. It's not like I _wanted_ him here."

"Right," the teacher huffed, turning on her heel and walking to another table, letting the students sort this out on their own. The pair baffled her and she didn't have the energy to try and figure out their dynamic.

Phil continued tugging at the knots, but Dan thought he was taking much too long, probably just to annoy the owner of the other shoe.

"Move out of the way," Dan sighed, pushing the crouched Phil away from their shoes.

"Chris tied them really tight!" Phil defended, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, allowing Dan to try at the knots.

Chris smiled from across the table, prompting Phil to flip him off. In turn, Chris melodramatically feigned being hurt, clutching his heart with a sharp gasp.

But he _did_ tie them really tight, and after ten minutes had passed of the boys taking turns trying to untie the shoes, Dan was tempted to bring in the scissors (Phil's laces would be cut, by the way, not Dan's). Eventually Louise made them both take off their shoes so she could untie them, and she did so by wedging a bobby pin into the knots to pull them apart.

Dan propped his feet up onto the legs of Louise's chair after that.

* * *

 

"What do you think about Webkinz?" Chris asked Dan one Friday after school, not tearing his gaze from the videogame before them.

"Webkinz?" Dan furrowed his eyebrows, also not looking away from the screen. "Like, the website for little kids?"

"Yeah, that. And the stuffed animals that let you go on it."

"I don't think of it much, if I'm being honest," Dan responded, cursing under his breath as he made a mistake on the game.

Chris didn't elaborate for a while as he was focusing on the screen. "Go, go, go _, go, c'mon..._ Anyway," Chris raised his voice from a mumble into actual speech, "I was thinking, just thinking, I could ask PJ out—"

"Stop," Dan interjected suddenly, "You are _not_ asking out PJ using Webkinz."

"Hear me out! It's a good idea," Chris insisted, tossing his controller off to the side after the game had ended. He had been sitting on his couch, but Dan sat on the floor with his back pressed against the front of the couch, so Chris lowered himself onto the ground next to Dan. "Just, listen to me," Chris repeated, clasping his hands together.

"No," Dan replied, "For one, you'd never actually ask PJ out, anyway. And if you did, he'd probably think you were joking—especially if you asked him by means of _Webkinz_."

Chris frowned, "You don't have to be so... brutal. Let me have dreams, Dan. I can have dreams."

"I'll let you have dreams," Dan nodded, " _Reachable_ ones."

Instead of getting defensive, Chris just shrugged. They'd had this conversation so many times, they both knew when to give up. (Chris was usually the one that had to give up.)

Chris grabbed his controller off the couch cushion, then, and they resumed their play. After a couple minutes, however, he spoke up again.

"Oh! Right. I meant to say this earlier but I was invited to be in one of PJ's short films for his digital film and editing class. It's about an airplane or something; he wouldn't tell me all the details." Chris continued, "So, since I'm such a good friend, I asked if you could help at all. And PJ said he could use a flight attendant."

Dan nodded hesitantly. "When's this happening, then?"

"Uhh, tomorrow morning," Chris answered, diverting his attention to check his phone.

"PJ is lucky I said yes, then," Dan said, not surprised Chris had told him at such short notice, "Otherwise he'd be short a flight attendant."

"To be fair," Chris countered, "He probably just made the part for you. He's so nice."

Dan rolled his eyes, not commenting on Chris's remark. "And is—"

"Yes, Phil is going to be there." Chris took his turn to roll his eyes.

Dan groaned, but he wasn't about to let Phil ruin anything more than the occasional art project.

* * *

 

So, that next morning, Louise was stroking a foundation brush across Dan's face on the set of PJ's film. (PJ had appointed her and another kid named Ben as make-up artists. Also, the set was PJ's backyard. Perhaps needless to say, there was a lot of cardboard present.)

And Chris was right; the film was about an airplane—an airplane that was actually a whale and if Dan were to be honest, it made no sense to him. Maybe he just wasn’t creative enough to understand, but he didn’t really _need_ to understand; all he had to say was “Please remain in your seats and do not panic as we transcend into the water. Thank you!”, which he could handle. Probably. 

Dan sneezed as Louise brushed underneath his nose, causing her to grimace and back away, letting Dan wipe at his face. 

"Graceful," Phil chimed as he approached the pair, "like a swan." 

"Fuck off, Lester," Dan rolled his eyes as he tilted his head back so Louise could apply foundation to Dan's jawline and neck. 

" _Lester_ , wow," Phil replied, nodding his head. "We're on last name basis, are we?"

"We're not on any basis," Dan snapped, but Louise pushed his chin upward, closing his mouth. 

"Stop talking so I can finish," she said sternly, despite the faint smile on her lips. 

Dan sighed, his eyes trailing after Phil as he walked over to talk with PJ and Chris. (Naturally, Chris was glued to PJ's side—though Dan hadn't let him bring anything Webkinz related.) 

Soon thereafter, Dodie came up beside Louise. She smiled at Dan and how his hair was pushed up by a headband so that Louise could work easily with his forehead. "I like your style," she commented before turning her attention to Louise and asking her what she thought about Dodie's inflection on a line that she then recited. 

Louise tapped Dodie's nose with a fluffy brush that she'd just picked out from her bag before telling her that it sounded great and she'd be a beautiful shining star, because Louise was cute and cheesy like that. She proceeded to use said fluffy brush to apply blush to Dan's face, and after she'd done that, Dan was free to go. 

"Don't touch your face too much, though," Louise cautioned, to which Dan nodded and began to walk away. "And, Dan," she called, prompting him to turn around. "You should let me do your makeup more often. Also, get this—black nail polish! That'd look so good on you."

Dan smiled back at her, "I'll think about it." He really loved Louise, a lot. He also thought that everyone that knew Louise loved her, because she was just so kind and sweet and lovable all the time.

Speaking of kind and sweet and lovable, Dan thought, a certain Phil Lester that was walking towards him was none of these things.

"What do you want now?" Dan asked, not particularly amused, "To tell me I look like an egg?"

"You expect so little from me, Dan," Phil grinned, "At most, you look like an egg that's been rolled down a flight of stairs. And that's _with_ Louise's great make-up skills."

"I'm flattered."

Phil chuckled, "That's what I like to hear. Anyway, I'm in charge of costumes and you're the only one that hasn't gotten one yet, so."

" _You're_ in charge of costumes?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Phil snorted, "It's not hard; PJ has all the costumes labeled anyway."

Dan shook his head, following Phil into PJ's house. While still slightly suspicious, Dan hadn't seen anyone else say anything about costumes, and yet they were all clad in them. So, he continued with Phil into a room with a dozen boxes set out on the bed.

"Your part?" Phil asked, looking back and forth from Dan to the boxes.

"Uh, flight attendant."

Phil nodded, scanning the boxes until he came across one labeled accordingly. He passed the box to Dan and then gestured to the adjoined bathroom, allowing Dan to change in solitude.

And this all would have been fine and dandy, but after Dan took off his shirt and held his costume out in front of him, he figured something was wrong. He definitely shouldn't have been holding a "sexy flight attendant" Halloween costume. _Definitely_ not.

So, he stepped out of the bathroom with said sexy costume in hands and thrust it out to Phil. "Very funny," he deadpanned as Phil took the costume.

"What's wrong with it?" Phil asked, and Dan told himself that he definitely didn't see Phil's eyes linger on Dan's bare torso.

"Look at it!" Dan fumed, "There has to be another one."

Phil couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled out from his chest as he examined Dan's supposed costume. "Oh, god," he mumbled after he'd stopped laughing, though a smile persisted.

"This isn't funny," Dan sighed, "I am _not_ wearing that."

"Why not?" Phil held up the skirt, "I think you'd quite suit it."

"Shut the fuck up," Dan retorted, failing to hide the swelling blush on his cheeks—which, perhaps ironically, was enhanced by Louise's prior work.

A smug look remained on Phil's face as he rummaged through the boxes for another costume that Dan could use, and together the pair salvaged a costume out of pieces of other ones. (Phil assured that everyone else that needed a costume already had one, and what was left was just extra, anyway.)

Dan finally emerged looking kind of like an off-brand flight attendant, so he and Phil were satisfied. And Dan swore that Phil wasn't checking him out when he came out in the costume; he was just observing the costume. Obviously.

Both of them were more or less surprised that they'd managed to work together and figure something out _together_ without too many rude remarks.

Chris was equally surprised that when Dan and Phil came back to the set that they hadn't a) beaten each other up or b) made out with each other. One of the two or perhaps both of them were bound to happen at some point (but Chris kind of hoped for the latter, for Dan's sake).

He watched as the pair split and walked different ways, Phil to his friend Bryony and Dan to Chris.

"So," Chris greeted, "since I can't ask out PJ, you have to ask out Phil. I've decided."

Dan hit Chris on the shoulder, "You can actually shut up."

"No, Dan, it's fine. I can take the sacrifice for _true love_ ," Chris insisted, prompting Dan to groan. "Plus—if _I'm_ single, and _you're_ single," Chris gestured back at the airplane set behind them, "then who's flying the plane?"

"That doesn't even make sense. And plus, _you_ of all people would know that PJ's playing the pilot." Dan shook his head fondly, watching as Chris's head snapped over to gaze at PJ clad in his pilot costume.

"You're right... but you're also no fun." Chris frowned, their conversation coming to a close as PJ gathered everyone around to begin their first run-through.

As it turned out, shooting a short film took a lot longer than Dan expected it to. By the time they'd recorded the last scene, the sun was just about to set.

* * *

 

PJ wasn't back in class on Monday, and Dan figured that Ms. Karson had allowed him to stay in his digital film class to edit the film. Really, it was still a form of art. PJ being gone, however, left a lonely Chris—after all, he hadn't his obsession to fawn over. So, he took to bothering Dan.

"You know," he leaned over, whispering into Dan's ear, "Phil probably has a crush on you. Our messed up societal norms cause boys to act aggressively towards—"

"Chris," Dan cut him off, pushing him away.

"But—"

"No."

"He's _staring_ at you. Like, more than usual," Chris insisted after leaning close to Dan again despite Dan's clear disapproval.

Dan's eyes flickered over to Phil and, sure enough, they made eye contact. Phil tore his gaze away immediately, scribbling fiercely on his paper.

Dan furrowed his brows in response, about to open his mouth when Chris mumbled an 'I told you so'.

"Phil," Dan narrowed his eyes suspiciously when he looked back again to see Phil staring. " _Why_ are you staring at me, exactly?"

Dodie overheard and let out a snort, "As if _you_ aren't always staring at _him_."

Dan scowled at her and directed his attention back to Phil, who had just begun to answer.

"I'm drawing a portrait of you for the portrait wall," Phil gestured back at a portion of the art room wall that was mostly blank, except for the title 'Portrait Wall' and one drawing underneath it. "It needs more than just Casey's drawing of Nicolas Cage."

Dan raised an eyebrow before demanding, "Well, let me see it, then."

"No," Phil replied, pressing his hands flat over to piece of paper so that Dan couldn't see the drawing underneath them.

Not giving up without a fight, Dan skirted around the table and stopped as he leaned over Phil's shoulder. "Let me see," he repeated, simultaneously close to Phil and as far away as he could be in such position.

Phil remained stubborn, covering the art. Dan leaned a bit closer so that he could reach around and grasp Phil's wrists, pulling his hands away from the portrait fairly easily. Dan continued to hold Phil's wrists as he observed the picture, so Phil wouldn't cover it up again.

"This doesn't look like me at all!" Dan looked offended, causing Phil to snort. "It's literally a bunch of squiggles with a vaguely recognizable fringe."

Phil wiggled his wrists free from Dan's grasp, "That's you, isn't it?"

Dan made a face of contemplation before nodding in defeat, "You've got me there."

"Do you want to put it on the wall?" Phil asked, picking the paper up from the table and holding it out to Dan.

"No," he answered, "I'm truly _honored_ , but no. You do it."

Phil shrugged and stood from his seat, taking a piece of tape from Ms. Karson's desk and sticking the portrait to the wall. He stood back for a moment and admired his work—he thought it was much better than the Nicolas Cage one, but maybe he was a bit biased.

When he came back to the table, Dan had returned to his usual seat.

"Is that how you're preparing for the art show, now?" Dan asked, "Drawing pictures of me?"

"Would you give it up with the damn art show?" Chris whined before Phil could answer. "We all know Louise is going to win, anyway."

Both of the boys blanked Chris, glaring at each other.

"I don't even need to prepare to beat you," Phil replied, "I'm already better."

Dan huffed, not believing so. "Whatever you say," he mumbled in response, shaking his head. Phil could think what he wanted, but that didn't change his skill level.

* * *

 

"Louise," Dan spoke as he kicked at a rock that was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. Louise had asked Dan to walk home with her, saying that it was such a nice day that it'd be a waste to get a ride. "I thought of a master plan."

"You did?" she responded, her eyes following a trio of birds that glided over their heads.

"Mhm. Get this, I have _two_ art projects, but one's fake. And I work on the fake on in class, you know, making it look horrendous in front of Phil, so he thinks I'm doing terrible. Then I have the other one at home that I've already been working on, and I actually try on it, so that Phil will be blown away when the art show rolls around." Dan smiled triumphantly at his idea, but Louise just stared at him, somewhat appalled.

"You're kidding," she said, "That's absurd. Just make _one_!"

"But what if Phil ruins it?" Dan countered.

"He's not going to ruin it," Louise stated, rolling her eyes. She wondered how long it would take the two to finally see what they _really_ meant to each other. No matter how much they complained about how the other wasn't hurtling directly towards the sun at that exact moment, they didn't _really_ want that.

"How are you so sure?"

Louise stuck her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. "I dunno... mother's instinct?"

"Mother's—"

"I'm like your mum, basically. That's gotta count for something," Louise explained, causing Dan to laugh and change the subject to many reasons why Louise was _not_ basically like his mother. And, well, maybe she wasn't his _mother_ , so to speak, but she was the 'mum-friend' (so that had to count for something).

It wasn't long before the duo reached Louise's house and Dan bid her farewell, continuing the leftover few blocks between their houses. Dan liked to walk alone every once in awhile; he could draw inspiration for art from various things around him while also just feeling relatively at ease. Louise was right, the day was far too nice to waste by not appreciating it. Even after Dan approached his house, he sat on the front steps for a bit, just admiring the subtlety of nature.

And that was nice, until his mother came out onto the front porch and told him they 'needed to talk'.

"It's nothing... bad, Dan," she coaxed, opening the door for him.

He reluctantly walked through the door, his mother following and shutting it behind them. Dan's eyes shifted to where his father sat in the living room and when his father caught sight of the pair, he stood.

"Dan," he greeted.

"Um, yeah? What's going on?" Dan tugged at his sweatshirt cuff, aching to retreat to his bedroom or maybe even to run to Louise's house. His parents were acting strange, mechanical even. He wanted out.

"Your brother told us something... unsettling," Dan's father spoke, breaking eye contact with his son.

"What? What did he say?" Dan looked frantically back and forth between his parents. Neither of them met his gaze. "What did he tell you?"

Dan's mother cleared her throat. "He told us that you..." she paused, as if carefully phrasing her statement. "that you don't like girls."

Dan let out a harsh laugh, "He told you that I'm gay?"

Both his parents pursed their lips, still not meeting eyes with their son. Dan was becoming infuriated.

"I'm not—" he started, "I'm not _gay_ , so to speak." He didn't know what to say to them, so he began to ramble. "I mean, I do like girls. I just also like boys and I don't see why that's a problem—"

"It's not a problem," his mother interrupted. "We just didn't expect this from you."

Dan wanted to burst out into laughter but he also quite wanted to sob. "What exactly did you expect?" His voice cracked on the final word.

"Not this," his father stated, briefly looking up at Dan but then away again.

"Well, I'm sorry. This is what you get." Dan swallowed thickly before storming out of the room and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He leaned his back against the closed door, taking a rattling breath. He didn't have it in him to be angry with his brother; he'd have to tell his parents eventually, and no matter the means of the way he'd told them, they probably would have reacted the same way: cold and unrelated.

Dan could act that same way, and he decided to. Needless to say, his little brother was drowning in guilt at the dinner table that night. He tried to apologize, but Dan cut him off with a sharp glare.

And after dinner, no one paid enough attention to Dan to notice that he snagged a bottle of red wine off of his mother's wine rack. Even after that, no one paid enough attention to Dan to notice him leave through the back door.

He found himself sitting on his old swing set in the backyard, absentmindedly swinging back on forth while he unscrewed the top of the wine bottle. (He'd purposely picked one without a cork.)

Dan was fairly certain no one cared enough to look for him if they hadn't found him in his bedroom, and so he tilted the bottle up and took a good few swallows. He always thought the first drink was kind of gross, especially with red wine. After an hour of lonely swinging and staring at the stars, however, Dan had managed about half the bottle.

At about that time, he thought it'd be a great idea to take a walk to the drugstore and buy some nail polish. He decided that taking a crack at the gender binary might piss off his parents even more than his already revealed queerness, and all he wanted at that time was to piss off his parents, really.

So, he abandoned the half-emptied bottle of wine in the bushes beside his house and he began his stumbled walk of a couple of blocks to the drugstore.

The lights were far too bright when he finally walked in, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness outside. Despite the time being around ten o'clock at night, there were several others inside the store, including none other than fucking _Phil Lester_.

Dan actively tried to stay out of Phil's sight, as even in his drunken state he didn't want to deal with his snide remarks. Nonetheless, as Dan picked out a bottle of black nail polish, there was a slight tap on his shoulder.

"Fancy seeing you here," Phil greeted, and Dan had to work extra hard to resist his urge to punch Phil in the face. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"For one," Dan started, his words slightly slurred, "stop talking like an asshat. For two, my parents are homophobic assholes and I just want to paint my goddamn nails."

"Are you... drunk?" Phil looked a bit struck, as if he'd never considered the fact that Dan even had a home-life—a shitty one at that.

"That I am," Dan replied, grasping his nail polish tightly in his fist. "Now, can you leave me alone?"

Phil felt some sort of responsibility for Dan at that point, like that he maybe shouldn't allow Dan to walk home drunk and confront his homophobic parents with a bottle of nail polish.

"Dan," Phil grabbed Dan's shoulder to stop him from walking any further. "Do you want me to buy that for you?"

Dan furrowed his eyebrows, "Why the hell would I want that?"

Phil shrugged, "Free stuff?"

"No," Dan continued forward towards the checkout, leaving Phil behind him.

"At least come over for tonight," Phil jogged a bit to catch up with Dan, as the latter was speed walking down the aisle. "and get away from your parents, yeah?"

Dan narrowed his eyes at Phil, stopping in his tracks. "Why are you being so nice to me? Usually you'd have made me want to, like, flip you off by now." Dan's speech was slow as he thought between each phrase.

"I don't know, maybe because you're drunk and your parents are assholes?" Phil responded, taking Dan's arm and pulling him forward to get him walking again. "You deserve someone being nice to you."

Dan snorted, "I _deserve_ to be thrown off the edge of the Earth, right now."

"Any other time, I'd agree with you," Phil let out a low chuckle. "But for now, just come to my house, alright? It'll be okay."

Dan nodded slowly, "But I still have to buy this." He pointed at the nail polish with the hand that wasn't holding it and Phil nodded.

"Okay. You buy that and I'll go get what I came here for." Phil hurried off in a different direction while Dan continued on his original path, to the cashier.

Dan set the bottle on the counter and fished some money out of his wallet to pay for it. After he'd paid, the cashier asked, "Buying for the girlfriend?"

Being irrational and also peeved, Dan forcefully swiped the nail polish off the counter. "No, I'm buying for myself! Fuckin' close-minded—"

"Dan! Dan, my car is right outside; how about you go wait for me?" Phil came up from behind the enraged boy, directing his attention to the cashier. "Uh, sorry about him."

He continued to buy his own items and meet Dan outside, where the drunk boy stood in front of two cars parked next to each other, pondering which could be Phil's. Phil approached and tapped the hood of one of the cars (his own), prompting Dan to get in the passenger's side.

The ride to Phil's was mostly quiet; Phil turned up the radio a few notches to fill the silence. It wasn't unusual that neither of them had much to say, since they were both trying not to be mean. As they pulled into Phil's drive, however, Phil had to fill Dan in on some things.

"Don't be too loud when we go in, okay? I think my parents are asleep. Well, I know my dad is... but my mum might not be since I just went to pick her up some meds." Phil noticed that he'd lost Dan in the midst of his statement. "Anyway, don't be loud. And also just wait in the living room for me, alright? Then we can go to my room."

Dan nodded despite the fact he hadn't really been paying attention to a word Phil said. He was busy trying to make out the swimming letters on the bottom of his bottle of nail polish.

Thus, Phil led Dan inside and sat him down on the couch. He proceeded to half-inform his mother on the situation (that a friend was staying over because of family issues; he left out the fact that Dan was drunk, naturally) and give her the medication he'd been at the drugstore for. Finally, before he went back to Dan, he filled up a glass of water for him.

When Phil made it back into the living room, Dan was nowhere to be seen. Phil mumbled a string of curses under his breath before beginning to look for him. He peered into a couple rooms, not catching sight of the missing Dan until he got to the bathroom. He knocked gently on the door, hesitating to open it in case he were to invade Dan's privacy.

"Come in." Phil heard a voice from inside.

He entered to see Dan sitting fully clothed in the bathtub, attempting to paint his nails. He'd already gotten black paint on his shirt, so Phil swiped the bottle away from him and carefully took the brush from his hand, securing the cap back on to the bottle.

" _Hey_ ," Dan whined, jutting out his bottom lip. "That's mine."

"Let me do it," Phil stated, clambering into the bathtub with Dan, his legs bent so that his knees were almost pressed to his chest.

Phil unscrewed the cap and examined the brush before having Dan hold out one of his hands. "I've never done this before." Phil laughed softly, pressing his palm against Dan's to hold the other boy's hand steady.

Dan's breath hitched and Phil took a moment to really think about what was happening; here he was, sitting in his bathtub and basically holding hands with a drunk Dan Howell. Of all things he'd thought of happening in his life, this was not one of them. And yet, here they were.

Phil began to apply the polish to Dan's nails as carefully as he could, but the brush was too big for Dan's nails, Phil thought. So, it was a little messy (but that was to be expected). Each time Phil messed up, however, Dan let out a soft giggle. Phil was almost tempted to screw up more, just to hear that.

"I'm definitely gonna beat you in the art show if you paint like _that_ ," Dan teased, his eyes half-lidded.

"This is hard!" Phil defended, having Dan switch hands as he'd finished the first. Dan set his already finished hand on the side of the bathtub to dry. "And you didn't bother buying any remover. It's like a pencil without an eraser!"

"So, like a pen."

"Shut up, so I can concentrate."

And Dan did, for a little while. Then he started humming, but Phil thought it was really cute so he didn't bother telling him to shut up again.

After Phil finished the other hand, he closed the bottle and set it off to the side, holding both of Dan's hands up to his face and observing his work. "I think I might have to rummage through my mum's supplies to see if she has some remover tomorrow," he commented, grimacing at all the places where the polish overlapped onto Dan's skin.

Dan laughed, "I like it. Thanks, Phil."

Again, Phil was struck by how weird of a situation this was, but he wished the thoughts away.

"No problem." Phil began to stand to get out of the tub, but one of Dan's hands shot out and grabbed hold of Phil's wrist to keep him there.

"I didn't get to do yours yet!" Dan complained, eyeing the black nail polish sitting on the bathtub ledge.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Phil replied with a snort, trying again to stand up.

"Maybe you're right," Dan said as he too tried to stand but stumbled.

"Yeah," Phil breathed, taking hold of Dan's bicep to help him stand.

"But you'll let me do it tomorrow?" Dan questioned, stepping out of the tub.

"I'm not sure you'll _want_ to do it tomorrow," Phil responded, "You _hate_ me, remember?"

Dan grinned, "Oh, shut up. You know I don't hate you."

Phil followed suit and smiled, shaking his head. "Alright, Dan. I'll see what you have to say on that tomorrow morning. As for now, I'm gonna find some clothes to lend you for bed. Drink up this water, alright?"

"Alright," Dan lifted the cup as Phil exited the bathroom.

In the few minutes it had taken for Phil to find some clothes and to clean his room up a bit, Dan had wandered into the living room and fallen asleep on the couch. Phil, not wanting his father to find Dan like that in the morning, scooped him up bridal-style and carried him back to Phil's room. Setting him on the bed, Phil pulled the covers up around him. (He decided not to change Dan into the clothes he'd picked out. He could just sleep in his jeans.) Not especially wanting to sleep on the carpet, Phil began to lay out a couple pillows on the floor. This act was interrupted by Dan's voice.

"I wasn't actually asleep." Dan laughed, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

Phil narrowed his eyes at the other, "You're saying you just made me carry you here while you were awake?"

"Maybe," Dan answered, "Anyway, you don't have to sleep on the floor."

"I don't?"

"No. Your bed is big enough for both of us; I'm not a hog," Dan looked at the empty space on the bed next to him.

"Whatever you say."

* * *

 

Dan was _totally_ a bed hog, and Phil found this out when he was awoken by being pushed off the bed and by falling onto the floor. He groaned and sat up, observing how Dan had managed to spread all his limbs across the entirety of the bed.

Awakened by the sound of Phil thumping onto the floor, Dan emitted a pained sound. Phil picked himself up off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, looking back at the sprawled Dan.

"You even hate me in your sleep," Phil chuckled, watching as Dan attempted to scoot over on the bed to allow Phil more room. "But how are you feeling?"

"Like I really need some water," Dan replied, holding a hand up to his head. "And an ice pack."

"Is that your way of asking?" Phil started to stand up.

"Yes," Dan said, pushing his face into the pillow underneath him. "And maybe a pain reliever?"

"On it."

Phil exited the room, leaving Dan alone to recall the events leading up to this. It wasn't like he was blackout drunk; he kind of understood what he was doing when he was doing it, but he couldn't quite put the pieces together. And here he was, laying in Phil Lester's bed with a hangover on a Tuesday morning. Perhaps needless to say, school was not the greatest of his concerns.

Dan's head was throbbing, but he was thankful for the small blessings, like that he wasn't really nauseous. At least he wouldn't have to have Phil clean that up after him.

Then he looked at his hands and nails, the entire bathtub scenario coming back to him. That was just another absurdity to add to the mix—Phil Lester had painted his nails. In a bathtub. While Dan was drunk... but Phil was entirely sober.

It hurt to think about it too much. (It hurt to do nothing at all, to be fair.)

"Okay," Phil spoke as he entered his room, perching on the end of the bed. "I brought you this." He handed Dan an ice pack first, "And these." Phil unscrewed the cap off of a water bottle and handed Dan two pills.

"Thanks," Dan grimaced as he pressed the ice pack to his forehead and then took the other things from Phil's hands.

"Yeah." Phil glanced around the room. "Um, I should probably go to school. You can... you can stay here, my parents wouldn't mind. I have a big chemistry test today, though."

"I can call someone to bring me home if you want." Dan closed his eyes, taking another drink from the water bottle.

"No, it's fine. Really. You'll just be alone for a few hours until I get home," Phil assured, walking over to his closet and picking out some clothes. "The bathroom is... well, you know. I'm gonna grab you some more water before I leave, and if you get hungry, take anything that's in the kitchen."

"You're being ridiculously nice to me," Dan commented, his eyes still shut. "I'm surprised you haven't thrown me out the window."

"It's tempting," Phil teased, "But really, I'm not actually an asshole. Well, not as much as you probably think I am."

"Yeah, whatever," Dan probably would've rolled his eyes if the act didn't feel like a billion suns bursting in his brain. "You feel sorry for me. It's fine. Go to school."

Phil opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when he couldn't think of anything to say.

* * *

 

About five hours after Phil had left, Dan decided that he should probably head home. His head wasn't hurting nearly as much as before, and he didn't see a need to be at the Lester residence any longer. He'd drunk all of the water bottles Phil had given him except one, but he was really starting to feel hungry and it felt intrusive to take food from Phil's kitchen even though he'd told Dan that was okay.

So, he slipped on his shoes that he hadn't remembered taking off the night before and grabbed the one water bottle left over, beginning his walk back home. He'd never been to Phil's house before—that was to be expected—so he didn't exactly know the way home. He decided that was okay; the fresh air was good for him.

The day wasn't as nice as the one prior, a chilled wind pressed against Dan's skin. He pulled his sweater cuffs over his hands and crossed his arms over his chest, retaining some heat. His headache persisted weakly, throbbing each time he stepped, but much more gently than it had been pounding before.

It was about an hour before Dan finally got home, and by then his headache had almost completely disappeared. He contemplated grabbing the wine bottle out of the bush he'd ditched it in, but he knew his mum was home so he decided that he'd retrieve it later.

Speaking of, as he walked in the door, his mother rushed over to him.

"Dan, where have you been?" She lifted a hand to put it against his cheek, but he pushed her away by the wrist.

"I was at a friend's house." It felt weird for Dan to call Phil a 'friend'.

"School called this morning," she lowered her hand and clasped both of them together in front of her, eyeing Dan's painted nails. "I told them you were sick, since I felt bad about last night."

Dan scratched at the back of his neck, "Thanks."

He tried to push past her, then, and continue into the house, but she stayed put.

"I wanted to apologize," she frowned, setting a hand on Dan's shoulder.

"It's fine," Dan deadpanned, removing her hand from his shoulder and moving around her.

"Dan, we were just... _shocked_ ," she continued, despite the fact Dan kept walking away. "It's nothing against you."

Dan sighed, shaking his head. "It's fine."

His mother swallowed thickly, letting Dan continue to his room without interruption.

Once he got there, he didn't know quite what to do. He began to pick at his fingernails, or the paint that had gotten onto his skin—and _shit,_ he'd forgotten his nail polish on Phil's bathtub ledge. But with how strangely nice Phil was being, Dan thought, Phil'd give it to him at school tomorrow, probably. He decided not to get used to this Phil; he'd probably be back to calling Dan an egg by the next day.

Not that Dan minded; he didn't want Phil to be nice just because he felt bad. Dan didn't want special treatment. He didn't quite know how to voice that when Phil showed up at his bedroom door with his nail polish and also two fast food shakes.

Dan coughed out of surprise as he stood up from where he'd been sitting, meeting Phil at the threshold of his room.

"Louise told me how to get here, saying something about how this was 'overdue'. And I told your mum that I'm a friend," Phil handed Dan the nail polish and one of the shakes.

"She probably thinks you're my boyfriend, then," Dan grumbled, taking the items into his own hands. "And seriously, I'm gonna have to ask you to stop being nice to me. It's weird."

Phil shrugged, "I'm making up for how mean I've been in the past."

"Well, stop. Keep being mean." Dan set the nail polish on his dresser and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Fine," Phil huffed, "You look like you've been hit by a bus and beaten up by gang of prepubescent boys."

"Not _that_ mean," Dan laughed, "Do I really look that bad?"

"You've looked better," Phil replied, sitting down on a chair in the corner of Dan's room. "Anyway, did you walk home?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" Phil asked, frowning slightly.

Dan shrugged in response, "I felt better."

"Yeah, alright," Phil looked down at his feet. "I suppose I should leave, then."

"You don't have to." Dan didn't quite know why he'd said that.

"Oh?" Phil's head raised so he could meet eyes with Dan.

"If you don't want to," Dan elaborated, swallowing and turning his gaze away. "I mean, I still have to take my turn and paint your nails, don't I?"

"I suppose you do." Phil smiled, his eyes flickering to the bottle of nail polish on Dan's dresser.

Dan followed Phil's gaze to the bottle and stood from his bed to retrieve it. After he'd grabbed it, he gestured for Phil to come over and sit on his bed. (Which he'd never even thought of happening, ever. Phil Lester... on his bed. Phil Lester in his house? _What the hell._ )

And so they sat criss-cross together on Dan's bed, their knees almost touching. Dan unscrewed the cap off the bottle as Phil held out one of his hands. Dan took Phil's hand in his own to hold it where he could work best, and he had the same moment of panic that Phil had had the night before: they were basically holding hands. Dan shook off the thought, focusing on the task at hand.

As he painted Phil's nails, Dan grinned triumphantly. He was doing a much better job than Phil had done the night before, but Phil argued that his circumstances made the job much harder, like the fact Dan was drunk and also that he was scrunched up in a bathtub. Dan countered that he was just more skilled, through and through. Phil would've hit him if his nails weren't wet.

"Isn't it weird," Dan started, swiping the brush across one of Phil's nails. "that it's frowned upon for us to put this... _miniscule_ amount of paint on our hands?"

"I'd say." Phil nodded in agreement, watching intently as Dan blew softly on the wet paint.

"And isn't it weird that my parents don't love me as much anymore just because I might want to kiss a boy?" Dan didn't raise his gaze to meet Phil's, but Phil wished he would.

"That's not the way it should be," Phil breathed, a frown contorting his face.

"That's the way it is, I guess." Dan sighed, "That's the way it goes."

Dan finally lifted his head and met eyes with Phil, and Phil couldn't help but let his eyes flicker down to Dan's lips. Dan noticed, and he let out a laugh.

"I can't believe Louise and Chris were right," he dropped his gaze again, tightening the cap back onto the nail polish bottle before setting it off to the side.

"About what?" Phil inquired, cocking his head to the side out of curiosity.

"You want to kiss me right now," Dan stated, a light smile dancing across his lips.

"I didn't say that." Phil tore his eyes away and observed his hands.

"But you do, right?"

"I mean—"

"'Cause I do—I wanna kiss you, I mean," Dan swallowed thickly, nervously awaiting a response.

"Me too," Phil let out a breathy laugh, making eye contact with Dan. " _Shit_."

"Yeah," Dan responded, just barely smiling.

Phil was first to lean forward, but Dan was quick to meet him in the middle. After their eyes fluttered closed, Dan lifted one of his hands to just barely touch Phil's jawline, gently pulling his face closer. As soon as their lips connected, there was no going back—not that they wanted to go back.

They were lucky that nail polish dried fast, because before long Phil's hands were tangled in Dan's hair. Soon thereafter, they fell backwards onto the bed, Dan's head softly hitting his pillow. Phil pulled away for a second, looking down at Dan beneath him and the way Dan's hair was splayed out on the pillow and the way Dan's lips were a couple shades darker and slightly swollen.

"For the record," Dan breathed, "I still hate you."

" _Sure_ you do," Phil shook his head ever-so-slightly before leaning back down and reattaching their lips.

* * *

 

If Tuesday were a painting, Dan thought, it would be composed of swirling deep, dark reds and purples: wine and blood and sangria. In contrast, Wednesday would be a block of light pink: rose, maybe, or blush—just a trace leftover of Tuesday.

 _Wednesday_. Dan tasted the word in his mouth; it was dry. Or perhaps that was just his mouth, since he'd just woken up. Nonetheless, in that moment, he decided to scrap his current art project and start a new one; one based on the seven days of the week. Seven paintings all lined up in a row, he figured.

Dan had forgotten to turn off his alarm, so the sound seeped back through his consciousness. He shook his head and silenced it, sitting up and wiping at his eyes. His hand dragged down to his lips, recalling the events of the day prior. Tuesday was so vibrant because Phil made it so.

 _Fucking Phil Lester_.

* * *

 

Louise approached Dan in class later that Wednesday, her face twisted in worry.

"Phil told me what happened on Monday; how are you doing?" Her voice was gentle as she took her seat next to Dan, her eyes flickering over to Phil.

"I'm alright," Dan responded, sketching his seven paintings on a piece of scrap paper. (It was late to be starting a new project; the art show was the following week. Dan didn't care because he knew he'd be able to finish in time.)

"Are you sure? You know you can stay at mine—"

"Seriously, Louise. I'm okay." He smiled softly up at her in reassurance before looking back down at his sketches. "Now I have to work on beating Phil in the art show."

Phil laughed from across the table having heard Dan's statement, Dan sucking his cheek between his teeth to refrain from grinning in response. Louise's eyebrow shot up as she observed the scene before her.

"What this about?" she inquired, looking quickly back and forth between the two.

" _Please_ , Louise," Dodie spoke up, "I think it's fairly obvious."

Louise furrowed her eyebrows, "I don't get it!"

"They're in _love_ ," Chris dragged out the last word until Dan hit him on the forehead with the back of his pencil.

"We are _not_ ," Dan failed to repress his smile.

Louise gasped, "You _snogged_ , didn't you!?"

Dan and Phil made eye contact and then looked back to Louise, light pinks tinting their cheeks. PJ let out a soft chuckle from the end of the table, "About time."

"You snogged _Phil_ , and you didn't tell me?" Louise demanded, though her angry facade fell quickly. "You cheeky little dog."

Dan just laughed in response, directing his attention back to his project.

* * *

 

Art show pieces were due the following Monday. Winners were to be revealed on Thursday, after everything had been displayed in the school library and the judges had decided.

Dan finished his paintings on that Sunday night (naturally).

Phil had already turned in his project when Dan brought his in on Monday, and he wouldn't tell Dan any details of what it was.

On Thursday, for the reveal, however, they decided to go to the school library and see who'd won best of show together. This was no longer a competition of spite; it was a joke. Dan liked it this way much better.

Dan hooked his arm in Phil's as they entered the school, grinning at him while walking to the library. Phil smiled warmly back at him, "For the record," he teased, "I still hate you."

"Shut up." Dan rolled his eyes, stepping foot into the library. "You never hated me."

"I'm not so sure about that." Phil chuckled, but then Dan saw his paintings spread across a display panel, so he dragged Phil towards it.

As they got closer, Dan gasped in dismay upon the sight of a red second place ribbon, "No!"

"Ha!" Phil exclaimed, laughing as he saw the ribbon stuck to the display panel beside Dan's art. "I won!"

Dan ignored Phil, his eyes frantically searching for the blue ribbon. When he found it, he rushed towards it, Phil close behind. Phil's face dropped when he realized the ribbon wasn't attached to his entry.

Continuing towards the artwork, Dan looked for a signature. He recognized the loopy handwriting as soon as he caught sight of it; this was Louise's. _Louise_ won best of show.

Dan and Phil looked at each other, and they just laughed. 

**Author's Note:**

> after this i imagine dan argues he still technically beat phil,, do with this information what you will


End file.
